Page 78 of Years in the Making

I’d expected him to tell me I’d change my mind or that he desperately wanted them, but he’d just said, “Then we’re on the same page.” And we just left it there, a big-ticket conversation over in the blink of an eye.

“Staunchly,” I say. “Same for you?”

“Same for me.” He nods.

Midge breaks us out of the apparent trance we’ve both fallen into by inviting us to follow her to the bunkie.

“Both beds have fresh linens,” she says, flinging the door open and leading us into a cramped single room with a single bed on each side. “Now I’d ask if there is going to be any hanky-panky, you move some blankets to the floor, since I’m not sure the beds could withstand what I’d imagine is vigorous lovemaking.” She then winks at me and leaves.

We stand there, watching as she grows smaller in the distance, and then I hear Teddy start to laugh.

“I wonder if she’s related to Cass. They have to share DNA,” he says in wonderment.

“Because they’re so blunt?”

He looks at me, and I can tell there is something specific he wants to say, but instead he just nods. “Please stay with me tonight.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he continues, “I desperatelyneed to sleep, and I’m not going to if you’re five kilometers away on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere. This is no different than sitting in the truck together. It’s not like we’re sleeping together-together.”

He looks wary and exhausted, and so I agree. After both of us have completed our nighttime routines, the lights are off and we’re in our respective beds.

“Are you sleeping?” I hear Teddy ask softly from across the room after a while.

“No,” I reply.

“Why not?”

“I can hear you breathing.” It’s not the truth. I can’t sleep because he’s there, so close yet so far. A whole gulf of emotions shared and intimate histories spread out between us in the form of an old wood plank floor.

“I’m sorry, I’ll try and breathe quieter,” he says.

“It’s not your breathing,” I murmur, but no response comes, just the sound of a mattress shifting.

“Nellie. Nellie.” Teddy’s voice and the gentle push on my shoulder bring me into consciousness on our fourth morning in the bunkie.

“What?” I yawn.

“I found a lake.”

“And you had to wake me up to tell me?” I’m so confused.

“The loons are out.”

Loons. I sit up, and I feel him step back quickly, our foreheads brushing. I’m out of bed and slipping my shoes on so fast that I forget that the mornings are much cooler up here than they are at home. I’m halfway down the front steps when thecool air hits my arms. I turn to go back inside and run straight into Teddy. His arms wrap around me and keep me from falling backward.

“Arms up,” he commands, and I follow without a second thought. Heavy fabric slips down my arms and over my head, and while my bare legs are still covered in goosebumps, at least my upper body is protected from the chill.

“Thanks,” I get out before I’m striding the rest of the way to the ground and across the yard. Stopping abruptly, I turn to see Teddy on the other side of the bunkie.

“You could go that way, but you probably won’t get to the lake before noon.” I don’t know why I assumed I knew where the hell I was going. Turning on my heel, I jog to catch up with Teddy and Kevin, who is eagerly prancing at his feet.

The minute I hear the loons, the frantic feeling I felt upon waking dissipates. How did he remember my love for loon song?

THIRTY-ONE

TEDDY

Watching Nellie listening to the loons is going to go down as one of the best moments of my life. Forget bungee jumping in New Zealand or volunteering with elephants in Thailand—this morning as the fog rises from the lake with Nellie beside me tops the list. For so long, this felt like the most unreachable goal, finding her again and convincing her to let me back in.

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